A Little Bit Of Joy | ✔

Chapter Forty Eight : The Boy In Her Thoughts

My appetite had vanished, but I still pushed myself to eat and tried to take my meds regularly. I didn't want to die right now only because my life was in pieces. This was exactly the kind of drama and fights I didn't want in my life at this stage. I wanted peace.

But who's fault was it? Mine.

My mum and dad knew something was wrong since I was cooped up in my room all day. My dad had showed up in my room, worry gathered between his eyebrows as I simply shook my head and told him I was feeling tired. I had a bit of fever which came and went like my mood swings on periods. But overall, my health was normal.

I needed to tell someone about all that had happened- with Logan, with Jamal. I wanted to hear meaningless 'It's going to be okay' and repeated assurances that I was a good human. I wanted to talk to someone, but I didn't know who.

In my head, I was still talking to the dead-

Liz, can you hear me? If so, I'm terribly missing you. I wish you hadn't died that day, I wish you had lived. I wish you could be here beside me as the much needed friend I wanted right now. I wish we could both share our sufferings, hug each other and tell it's all going to be alright in the end even if it isn't. I just wish you were here with me.

And sorry for unknowingly killing you, I didn't mean to.

It all sounded silly in my head, but I couldn't stop. I wasn't punishing myself for Eliza's death, at least I hadn't been after that entire phase of wallowing in misery, until the recent arguments with Logan and Jamal popped up. What if I had really made a decision for her just like I had made for every one around me?

The 'what ifs' were always dangerous and it was better to not think about it. But I was missing Eliza and the more I thought about her, the more I blamed myself. The happy memories with her had faded, replaced by nothing but doubt. I knew it wasn't my fault that she passed away so young, but a tiny part of me would always be doubtful. And in times like these, that tiny part was multiplying.

I wasn't angry at Logan or Jamal for telling me what they felt, I was just sad. Sad that I couldn't understand better. All this while I was peeved at Jamal for messing with my baby sister, not once thinking about what they wanted. I was nobody to come in between them if they truly loved each other. Just because I was dying didn't mean that I was a wise, old cow who knew the marvels of this world.

As of Logan . . . The things I was feeling were ineffable. Sometimes, I felt like running to him and holding him tightly against me, other times I felt like running away from him as far as possible. We both knew this wasn't going to work out, so why did he have to tell me that he loved me? At times, I appreciated his honesty and he wasn't to be blamed for telling me the truth, but just why? Why me?

The only option was to break things between us for good. It was impossible for us to stay friends with him being somehow in love with me. But the problem was, I didn't want to break things with him. Neither did he, so why were we stuck in this God awful situation? Why we?

Did I lead him on somewhere along the way? Did I give him signals about wanting something more? Looking back, things just happened. Naturally.

Three years ago, I got diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukaemia and Logan lost his entire family in a devastating car crash. Three years later, we met at the bridge. Both broken with clipped wings. One who accepted her fate and was ready to grow- other who accepted his fate, but was ready to give up. Both equally strong. It was natural for the growing one to help the giving up one heal and eventually grow too- to rise higher.

I got up from my bed slowly- my joints aching as I walked like a zombie outside my room. I stayed there, straining my ears to hear what my parents were talking to each other in the living room. I stood by the top of the stairs warily.

"Can you tell me what's the matter with our daughter? She was barely in the room all summer, now she's locked up in there!" -mum.

I hadn't locked my room by the way, the door was unintentionally shut.

"I told you I checked up on her earlier, she's fine. Just one of those days." -dad.

One of 'those' days were the days when I was deeply melancholic and stuck up in my room all day. I used to be like that three years ago when I realized I was dying or after agonizing treatment. The last I had 'those' days was when I got the news that Eliza was gone.

"Fine? She's clearly not fine!" -mum.

"Try to calm down love, she needs some time and space. We can't always intrude, she'll only feel more low." -dad.

Dad was right, the last thing I wanted was both of them harassing me to spill all my feelings out.

"Do you know what you're talking about? How can I leave my daughter like that when I know she's in pain? To know you can't do anything while your baby girl was suffering . . . To know you failed as-as a parent to protect your child . . . T-To silently watch her cry knowing you're helpless . . . God, have mercy on her- oh God!"

My mum was weeping and within seconds, my own tears followed. I ran downstairs- ran past all my own worries and hugged her. My mum's body turned rigid, but she soon hugged me back- both of us bawling.

"I'm sorry maa, I'm sorry for making you worry," I whispered hoarsely. "I'm sorry."

My mum after long minutes of crying finally looked at me, her charcoal black eyes shining. "Are you in pain Joy?"

"No maa, no. I'm fine," I lied, shaking my head. I turned to dad. "I'm fine dad, really."

"See, my daughter is strong," my mum said humorously between her choked sobs, trying to lighten the mood.

Dad smiled. "Our daughter dear."

"Yes darling, but Joy honey, tell me if anything is wrong okay? Anything." My mum looked straight into my eyes and I felt guilty not telling her. I didn't want her to be distressed. Perhaps I was making a decision for her that it would be better if she didn't know about her daughter's feelings. It didn't matter anymore.

I feigned a grin and nodded. "Okay."

My phone buzzed and my mum reached over to the dining table where it was kept. She glanced at it as a series of texts popped up on the screen. I couldn't see who it was from where I was standing and my hands were getting clammy. I was sick with anxiety. Was it Logan?

My mum frowned at the screen. "There's some party in the next town at Angel's . . . Your school friend Cath is saying that."

I let out a breath of relief. "Oh, you know Cath. She wants me to feel normal and mingle with her friends, so she's always inviting me to some party or other. I don't have to go."

"It's day after tomorrow. I have a meeting with my client nearby Angel's, I can drop you off and pick you up," my mum offered.

"It's okay maa, you don't have to."

"But you should go, it'll be nice to meet your friends. Cath's a nice girl too. What do you say darling?" she asked dad who shrugged indifferently.

Noticing my mum's glare, he said hastily, "You should go."

I laughed dryly, giving in. "Okay."